The Tardis Street Mysteries
by NajikaIce
Summary: Dr. David Smith, otherwise known as the Doctor, is London's premiere detective, solving cases for those in need at absolutely no charge. Matt Oswald is a tutor from Leadworth, searching for his missing sister. He seeks out the Doctor to help him, but what follows is much more than either man would have imagined. Victorian!AU, contains 10/11.
1. The Doctor and the Dolls I

**Oookaaay. Hello everyone! This is a new project of mine. I just really got into the idea of a Victorian Doctor Who AU, and my friend egged me on, so here it is.**

**In case anyone who has read my other stories is wondering, no, have not given up on them. I'm just in a bit of a Merlin slump and so I'm writing other things to help me get back in the groove.**

**ALSO. In case it wasn't clear: David Smith is the Tenth Doctor, and Matt Oswald is the Eleventh.**

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><p>"I just don't know what to do anymore."<p>

Matt Oswald let his head fall back over the top of his chair, his hair flopping about with his movements. His face, though young, bore signs of fatigue and wear seen mostly on those a decade or two older than him. One hand rested on the arm of the chair. The other nursed a glass of alcohol- which alcohol, he wasn't sure. He thought the night started out with brandy or perhaps scotch, but now everything just tasted the same.

"I don't think there's much else you can do, dear." A sympathetic female voice lilted towards him, accompanied by the sound of a baby's soft cries. Matt lifted his head to face the speaker. Indeed, a blonde woman with a baby at her hip stood before him, though sitting in the chair opposite remained his drinking partner, a portly gentleman with equally fair hair and the shadow of a beard on his chin.

"Sophie's right, Matt," said the man, one by the name of Craig Owens. The woman standing was his wife, Sophie Owens, and the gurgling baby boy was theirs. They'd called him Alfie, but Matt, in his present state, had taken to calling him Stormageddon. "You've done all you can. The police did what they could…"

"They barely did anything!" protested Matt. "They searched for her for what, a day? Maybe two? Then they came back to me and said that they couldn't afford to waste time searching for a- a country girl! They couldn't even say her name!" He tilted the rest of the glass's contents down his throat and threw his head back once more for dramatic effect. "Bloody useless, the lot of them!"

"Now, now," Sophie walked closer to him, after depositing Alfie to her husband's care. She gently pried the glass out of Matt's grip and set it aside. "Drinking away your problems won't find Clara, now will it?"

He stared at her. "... Guess not. But what else can I do? I can't find her on my own- I don't even know where to start. And with all those other disappearances..." Matt shuddered.

Sophie frowned, and it was apparent that she was all out of sagely, motherly advice. But Craig, it seemed, was not. He leaned forwards in his chair, careful not to disturb the now asleep baby in his arms. "Actually, I think there is something you can try."

Both his wife and friend looked at him. "What?" asked the former.

"Matt, have you ever heard of the Doctor?"

Matt blinked. "Doctor who?"

"He's this detective... He solves all the crimes the police won't- or can't. People say he's brilliant."

The more inebriated gentleman leaned back in his chair, processing this information. "The Doctor, huh… Why would he help me?"

"He takes cases if they're interesting enough. He doesn't even charge, or so I've heard."

Matt was happy to hear that. He didn't have more than a penny to his name after he and Clara moved to London. Getting work as a tutor in London was much harder than he'd expected. "Alright, so… How do I find this Doctor?"

"I think he lives on… what was it? Trisda Street?"

"Trisda?" repeated Matt. "Never heard of it."

"It might be something else."

"Well…" Matt slouched a bit. He brought his hand up to reach for his pocket watch, rubbing his thumb over the smooth metal. "I guess if nothing else, I can give this Doctor a chance. I'll ask around. See what people know."

Sophie and Craig smiled at him, a gesture that was half-heartedly returned. In truth, Matt had little hope. If the police couldn't be bothered, why would this man calling himself the 'Doctor' be any more willing to help?

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><p>A few short days of asking around and occasional bribing later, Matt found himself at the residence of a Dr. David Smith- reportedly the famed detective. Craig had been fairly close with the name of the good Doctor's address- it was Tardis Street, not Trisda. At least he'd gotten the letters correct.<p>

He stood in front of a bright blue door, marked with a gold sign that displayed the number '10'. Steeling himself for the worst, Matt grabbed a hold of the knocker and banged it three times. The door was answered surprisingly quickly. A young woman, probably a maid judging by her attire, stood on the other side of the threshold. Her skin was dark in color, her features kind but intelligent, and Matt found that she was very pretty. She smiled and curtsied at him, further proving him correct.

"Hello, Sir. How may I help you?"

"Oh, I… Is this where the Doctor lives? The detective?"

She nodded. "It is. Do you have a case for him?"

"Well…" Matt scratched the back of his head. "I suppose I do."

Immediately, the woman stepped aside to let him enter the house. After he did, she closed the door and started to lead him further in. The inside of the Doctor's home was tastefully decorated, though there appeared to be a mishmash of clutter and strange objects littered here and there. Various pictures lined the walls, ranging from what appeared to be family portraits to photographs of random people, and newspaper clippings detailing various crimes filled in the space in between. When Matt finally tore his gaze away from the messy interior, he saw that the maid guiding him was regarding it with apparent disdain.

"I just finished cleaning this morning," she bemoaned, catching sight of Matt's curious stare. "For a genius, the Doctor isn't very good at self-maintenance."

Matt hummed. "A genius, eh? Is he really that good?"

"Oh yes. But don't say that to him." The woman gave him a long-suffering look. "He's already got an ego the size of London."

He smiled a bit, and let her continue leading him through the clutter and mess. Eventually they reached a sitting room, where they found numerous clockwork machines and toys covering almost every surface, from tables to chairs to even the floor. And sitting in the center of the room, leaning over one such mechanical device while holding a screwdriver to its core, was a man.

He dressed rather modernly in a pinstriped suit, complete with a silk tie, though his hair was quite frankly ridiculous. It stuck up in various directions and it seemed that no force on the earth could contain it. And the man was young, too, though not more so than Matt. His face spoke of someone in his early thirties, but his bright and inquisitive eyes, which were focused intently on the device in front of him, may have fooled others into believing he was much younger.

The woman cleared her throat to call the man's attention. He didn't look up.

"Sir," she tried again. "Excuse me, Sir?" Still nothing. "Doctor Smith!"

Finally, the man- the famed Doctor- looked away from his toy. "Martha, I'm busy!" His voice was tinged with the proper estuary accent, though there was a hint of something else beneath the complaint. Scottish, maybe?

"Yes, yes, very busy with your toys," Martha rolled her eyes. It was far out of her position to act so flippant towards her employer, but Matt found it quite entertaining. And the Doctor didn't seem to be offended, either. He merely sighed and reluctantly put down his device on the table. Martha smiled victoriously. "Thank you, Sir. Now, you have a client." She turned to Matt, encouraging him to step forward. As he did so, the Doctor sat up attentively.

"Really?" he asked, eyes sparkling. Matt felt nervous once those eyes were focused on him. "Why didn't you just say so? Come in!"

Martha gently nudged Matt forwards, while the Doctor cleared away the junk covering the seat next to him so that Matt could sit there. Once he was settled in the chair, Martha curtsied.

"I'll bring in some tea," she announced, and then she was gone. Matt wished she had stayed. Being alone with the mysterious stranger, regardless of whether or not he could help Matt, made him feel anxious. Especially since the man was still staring at him. His fingers sought out the silver chain hanging from his vest, finding solace in its familiarity.

"You've lost someone," he said suddenly, causing Matt to jolt in his seat.

"I-I'm sorry?"

"Is that why you're here? Because you've lost someone?"

"How could you possibly-?"

"I know that look," the Doctor gave him a lopsided grin, though it wasn't necessarily a happy one. "Seen it too many times to count."

Matt's grip on the pocket watch chain tightened. "... Yes," he finally said. "Yes, I've lost someone. My little sister, Clara."

"I'm sorry," said the Doctor, with genuine sympathy.

"I've tried the police," Matt went on. "They barely tried looking for her. Apparently they have better things to do than look for a country girl lost in the big city."

"Sounds like them," the Doctor agreed. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name?"

"Matthew Oswald. But I prefer Matt."

"Good to meet you, Matthew!" The Doctor extended a friendly hand towards him. Matt shook it, feeling slightly more comfortable, though he was annoyed that the Doctor called him by his full name. "I'm David Smith, but most people call me the Doctor."

"I've noticed."

"And you've met Martha," he continued just as the maid reentered the room, bearing a tray with tea and biscuits. Matt nodded, thanking Martha as she poured the tea. She spared him a smile. Then, as soon as she appeared, she was gone again, presumably off to clear up the mess in the main hall.

"So," the Doctor grinned over his cup. "Tell me about yourself."

"… What?" He was confused. Surely he should be asking about his sister, not him?

"I make it a point to get to know all my clients," he answered with a shrug. "That way it feels more like I'm doing a favor for a friend rather than solving a client's case. Feels too much like police work the other way."

"I… see… Well, what do you want to know?"

"Let's start simple. Where are you from?"

Matt paused for a moment, unsure of how much he could really share with this man, friendly as he seemed. Finally, he relented. "My sister and I are from a village called Leadworth. It's up north."

The Doctor hummed. "What brought you to London?"

"Clara is a governess. A family in London needed a new one and she decided to take the job."

"So you moved with your sister?"

"I wanted to make sure she was safe," he said defensively, though it was clear that the Doctor meant no offense. He was even smiling at Matt like he was the pinnacle of all brothers, which he did not feel like at the moment.

"No no, that's good. Lovely, even. Your parents didn't mind?"

Matt shrugged. "We lived with our uncle."

"Oh. Sorry."

"He was alright with it. Encouraged me to go with her, even. We've always been rather protective of her."

"I can see that. Now, what about you? What is it you do, Matthew Oswald?"

"Me?" He blinked. "I'm just a tutor. Well, sort of. Not teaching anyone at the moment."

"A tutor, brilliant. Love a good tutor. Specialties?"

"History and Science. A bit of Literature, too. And a few languages..."

The Doctor's grin widened, and Matt suddenly felt embarrassed.

They sat in an oddly comfortable silence for a while, sipping at their tea and glancing at one another every so often. But Matt could not dance around the subject any longer.

"Sorry," he spoke up. "But I came here to ask for your help."

"To find Clara, I presume?"

"Yes. I was told that you're very good at what you do. _Can _you help? I don't have much money to pay you with, but..."

The Doctor cut him off, "Oh no, none of that, please! I don't accept money for this sort of thing." He smiled that infuriatingly happy smile again. "And I _am _very good at what I do. So, yes, I will help you."

"Really?" Matt's grin nearly split his face.

"Of course. I'll just need a few details, and we'll be set." The Doctor's face became softened, more sympathetic. He reached over and placed his calloused hands over Matt's smoother ones, radiating compassion and warmth. Matt should have jolted at the touch, but instead, he found himself relaxing into it. "I'll find your sister, Matthew, safe and sound. I promise."

Matt looked in his eyes, jade green to dark amber, searching for the slightest hint of a lie. When he found none, he returned the Doctor's strong grip and whispered, with all the gratitude he could muster, "Thank you."

* * *

><p>Matt left Number 10 Tardis Street half an hour later, leaving David Smith to contemplate his case. He was a nice fellow, that Matthew. David genuinely wanted to help him out. He went over the facts that Matt had provided him concerning his sister's disappearance in his head. She had been returning home from her governess duties- already odd, since governesses were meant to live in the home of their employers. Though, according to Matt, her employers were a relatively small family, and as such did not have room for Clara in their house. She and her brother instead lived with their friends, the Owens family. But that night, she never made it home. This was over two weeks ago.<p>

She'd disappeared somewhere along Latimer Street, the longest street between her employer's home and her own. While not usually deserted, there were plenty of spaces the Doctor could recall that could disguise a potential kidnapping. If she was actually kidnapped, that was. There was always the possibility that Clara had just run away. Perhaps she disliked London and its crowded streets, being a girl from the sparse countryside. Or maybe she grew tired of her overprotective brother and opted to escape.

David shook his head, muttering to himself. No, Matthew was a perfectly lovely gentleman. He didn't even look vaguely threatening. He seriously doubted anyone would bother running away from him. Besides, this case was too similar to a few other ones that were cropping up in the news. Disappearing girls, taken in the night... He doubted it was a coincidence.

Martha returned sometime later, exhausted from cleaning up after the Doctor's usual messes. They both knew it was a futile effort, since all the clutter would be back by morning, but she, with her usual grace, merely sat down on the seat Matt used to occupy and let the Doctor ramble on about his newest case.

"So a kidnapping, then?" she said once he was done, arriving at the same conclusion he had.

"It seems the most likely. You'll recall that several other young women have disappeared over the last few months."

"Right. The police think that Jack the Ripper is back in London. That or a copycat criminal."

"What the police think and what is actually true are more often than not totally different things," the Doctor huffed. "I doubt the two are connected at all."

She raised an eyebrow. "Okay. So it's a different madman running around, kidnapping young girls."

"Most likely. But this new madman hasn't left a trail of bodies in his wake- at least, not yet. So what purpose does a person have for kidnapping another?" He directed the question at Martha.

"Extortion?" she suggested. "Holding people hostage for ransom from their loved ones?"

He shook his head. "Matt's not rich enough to be a target for extortion, and only one of the other missing girls came from a high-class background; her family hasn't received any messages demanding ransom, either. What else? Why kidnap women _exclusively?_"

The maid thought hard for a while, and then it suddenly came to her. With a fresh look of horror, she murmured her new answer. "Prostitution?"

The Doctor replied with a grim nod. He reached across the table and picked up the photograph that Matt left behind for him- it was of Clara. As far as siblings went, they didn't look terribly alike. Matt's face was square-ish while hers was a more rounded heart shape. Still, both were attractive enough in their own rights. He showed the photograph to Martha.

"She's very pretty," she observed, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "Which makes her a prime target."

"Exactly." He tucked the photo into his jacket's inside pocket.

"So, where do we start?"

"There are too many brothels in this city to search for Clara." The Doctor made a disgusted face. "Not that I'd want to set foot in those slave institutions. No, we'd be better off retracing her steps. Perhaps that will even lead us to the other girls."

"To Latimer Street, then? Since that's where Miss Clara vanished."

The Doctor frowned, leaning forwards in his chair to address his maid. "Martha… I'm not so sure about you accompanying me on this one."

"What?" she gawped. "Why not?"

"Because, all the victims so far have been pretty young women of varying social classes. You're a pretty young woman. I don't want you…"

"Getting kidnapped?" she finished for him, her arms crossed over her chest like a disapproving mother. "You think I don't know how to take care of myself?"

"I didn't say that."

"You definitely implied it."

"Look," sighed the Doctor. "All I'm saying is that perhaps it's best if you aren't on the front lines on this venture. At the very least, I'd like you to be accompanied at all times. You're not just my maid, Martha, you're my friend."

Her features softened, and she uncrossed her arms, though she still looked fairly annoyed. "Okay, fair enough… But I still think you might need help on this one."

"That's true enough. But who could I ask? Donna's out of the question, for the same reason you are. Jack's still out on his sabbatical, or whatever he's calling it now. And my brother is still in America." The Doctor groaned, slumping in his chair.

Martha paused. "What about Matt?"

"Hm? What about him?"

"Well, Miss Clara _is_ his sister. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to help out. Besides, it's not as if he's stupid. You said he was a tutor?"

"Yeah…" the Doctor relented. "But I doubt he has any experience with this sort of thing."

"That hasn't stopped you before."

He stared at her for a while before shaking his head with a small smile. "You're right about that. Alright, but I'll ask him tomorrow. I think he's had enough for the day, don't you?"

She stood up from her chair and grinned. "Probably. Shall I send him a telegram in the morning?"

"No," the Doctor rose with her. "I think it's better to ask him in person. For the time being, let's get the maps out; we need to figure out where he lives, after all."

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><p><strong>And so ends part one of the first story. Please, tell me what you guys think, I'd love to hear some feedback! It was really weird writing this, to be honest. But I did have fun.<strong>


	2. The Doctor and the Dolls II

**So, the next part in the first story! **

**Just to clarify, however: there is no time travel or aliens in this world. It's as realistic as I can get it (I mean, I'm no expert on the Victorian Era sooo). Sorry to anyone who may have been looking forward to that.**

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><p>The sun was shining high the next morning, though it had to fight through layers of fog to get its light to the citizens of London. As it was, they barely noticed it, and many just continued on their way through the thick mist. The Doctor was one of these people, except that he was in fact aware of the bright sun overhead. Perhaps the fog would clear later, he mused, though that was unlikely.<p>

His hands stuck in his pockets, and wearing an old brown overcoat, the Doctor looked more like a grown street urchin than the famous detective he reportedly was. But he preferred things that way- things were surprisingly easier for him when people believed he was a low-life commoner. He whistled a merry tune as he walked, nodding at the passers-by, who ignored him. A particular building came into his view, crammed in between the other houses as was common. 21 Aickman Road, at last.

He waltzed up to the door and knocked twice, sticking his hand back in his pocket when he was done. The door was opened by a blonde woman.

"Yes?" she asked politely. "How may I help you?"

"I'm looking for Matthew Oswald. You're Sophie Owens, I presume?" He flashed her a charismatic grin.

Sophie blinked. "Er, yes. Sorry, who are you…?"

"Oh, terribly sorry. I'm the Doctor."

Her eyes widened, and she took a step back. "T-The Doctor? As in, the detective?"

"The one and only."

She hurriedly let him inside and led him to their sitting room (considerably smaller than his, but he wasn't rude enough to comment on that) and asked him to wait while she fetched Matt, who was apparently caring for the Owens' child upstairs. The Doctor settled comfortably into a chair and waited.

It only took a few minutes before Matt Oswald bounded down the stairs. He was dressed in the same manner as he was the day before, with a checkered waistcoat and a dark bow tie. He looked surprised to see the Doctor sitting there, but then again, he supposed, he had come unannounced.

"Doctor," Matt greeted hesitantly. Sophie was no longer present, as she had presumably taken over the care of her child.

"Matthew," the Doctor replied, smile as broad as ever.

Matt frowned and moved to sit across from the detective. "Matt," corrected the tutor.

"Right. Whatever."

"... Why are you here? Did you… find something already?"

"Not yet, but I would like to ask you something." The Doctor briefly summarized the points he and Martha had concluded earlier. Matt's expression grew more and more distressed.

"You think my sister's been forced into prostitution?" he asked incredulously. The Doctor held up his hands, as if to calm the hysteric man down. It actually worked, a little bit.

"It's our best theory," he explained. "Clara is most likely the latest victim in this kidnapping scheme."

"Okay…" Matt took a deep breath. "Do you have any leads?"

"Not just yet, but I'd like to investigate the spot where you said Clara disappeared: Latimer Street."

A nod. "So… You're off to do that now, then?"

"Well," the Doctor crossed his arms, "that's the thing. See, Matthew-"

"Matt."

He was ignored. "- I usually do these investigations with friends of mine. Like Martha. But the problem with this particular case are the victims' profiles."

"Martha's a pretty woman," said Matt immediately. "She could be in danger."

The Doctor appeared surprised with how quickly the tutor had caught on. He smiled. "Yes, exactly. And so my other female friend is out of the question. My male associates are not currently in London, either. So, I'd like to ask you-"

"To accompany you?" finished Matt, eyes wide.

"Precisely."

"But… I'm not a detective."

"Neither are my other friends. Even I'm not, officially."

"... Are you sure?"

"You seem like the intelligent sort. And this is better for you, anyway. You'll be right on the front lines, searching for your sister. I won't have to relate information to you because you'll be right there with me." The Doctor grinned again, though it seemed purposely persuasive this time. "So what do you say?"

"I…" Matt bit his lip. "If you think I'd be any help…"

The detective grinned in victory. "I know you will be." Then he stood up, straightening his tie. "Now then, allons-y!"

Matt translated the French phrase in his head. "Let's go? What, right now?"

He shrugged. "Unless you still have to babysit."

Since he didn't, Matt ran back upstairs to tell Sophie that he was leaving, and he grabbed his coat from his room. The newly-formed mystery-solving team was outside 21 Aickman Road in minutes. The Doctor hailed a cab to take them to Latimer Street, which was opposite the direction he'd originally come from his own home. As they clambered into the back, the driver muttering a lethargic greeting, Matt suddenly realized something.

"Hang on," he said, once the cab was now moving. "How did you find out where I lived?"

"Simple," the Doctor replied, somewhat haughtily. "You said you lived with an Owens family, and your sister's route home was nearby Latimer Street. Martha checked out home listings while I consulted a map. 21 Aickman Road was the only home by Latimer Street that had an Owens family listed as residents." He finished his spiel with a proud smile.

Matt could only stare. "That's… incredible." After a pause, "... And somewhat terrifying."

The Doctor merely gave the tutor a reassuring pat on the back. Little more was said as the cab took them from Aickman Road to Latimer Street. Once they arrived at their destination, the Doctor paid the cab driver and watched as the carriage disappeared into the early morning fog. Then, he turned to Matt.

"Ready?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be," was the weak reply. The duo began walking along the street.

"Clara's employers live just over there," Matt commented, pointing in a far-off direction. "The Maitlands."

"Private estate?" asked the Doctor. Matt nodded. "Then the house is probably behind an enclosed fence, meaning Clara has to walk quite a ways to hail a cab."

"Half a block, according to her."

"So between the Maitland house and the cab spots is where we need to start our search. Come along, Matthew."

Matt rolled his eyes, and ran a bit to catch up with the fast-paced detective. "I told you, I prefer Matt."

"And I prefer Matthew," he retorted. "Matthew is more posh."

He snorted. "I'm the farthest thing from 'posh'."

"Says the man in the bow tie."

"They look nice," he said defensively.

"And posh."

The tutor frowned, but didn't say anything more. They continued walking along Latimer Street.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Matt finally asked. "The police _did _check here first when I inquired about my sister."

The Doctor glowered. "How much faith do you have that they actually checked _thoroughly_?" Matt's silence was answer enough, though the tutor was eyeing him with curiosity concerning his tone. "Anyway, we're looking far more closely than any policeman would bother. The slightest sign of a struggle, the tiniest mark on the pavement-"

Matt halted in his tracks. "A hatpin?"

The Doctor paused thoughtfully. "Well, yes, I suppose. A hatpin. Why a hatpin?"

Matt reached forwards, grabbing the Doctor by the scruff of his collar, pulling him back to where he was standing. They'd reached a point in the road where there was an alleyway breaking up the houses, sealed off by a black iron gate. Matt walked towards the gate and knelt down, his hand brushing against the damp stone ground. He'd picked something up. The Doctor leaned over his shoulder to see what it was.

"Oh, a hatpin. Well, that's certainly something."

Matt's voice was barely above a whisper. "It's Clara's."

The Doctor was startled. "What? Are you sure?"

"Course I'm sure!" Matt stood up, his face afflicted with anger. "I bought it for her!"

"Whoa there," the Doctor said gently. "Alright, sorry. May I see it?"

Matt sighed, but deposited the hatpin into the Doctor's waiting hand.

It was a standard hatpin, around 20 centimeters in length. The pinhead itself was designed to look like a maple leaf, though it was now crushed and covered in dirt. The Doctor could see the slightest hints of gold and copper paint through the mud.

"A maple leaf?" he murmured, mostly to himself, but Matt heard him anyway.

"It was a story our parents used to tell us," he explained. "About how a maple leaf brought them together. Clara loved it, so when I saw that in a shop…"

"You bought it for her. Must have been expensive."

Matt smiled sadly. "It was worth it."

"How did a maple leaf bring your parents together?" he wondered. Matt opened his mouth to reply, but the sound that tore through the air next did not come from him. It was a scream. A decidedly female scream. And it came from the alleyway.

"What was that?" asked Matt, but by the time the question had been asked, the Doctor was already almost over the iron gate.

"Come on!" the detective cried over his shoulder.

"Bloody hell," Matt groaned. He clambered over the fence with considerably less grace than the Doctor, but he still managed to get to the other side with injuring himself. The Doctor was already off at a run, heading towards the source of the scream. Matt quickly hurried after him, keeping his hat secured to his head with one hand.

The alley was one-way, so all they had to do was follow it. But there were so many twists and turns that neither man was sure where they'd end up. Soon enough, the alley opened back into a street, and luckily, there was no gate to climb over. The Doctor's eyes dashed about madly, searching for a clue, when they landed on a small gathering of people nearby a tree in a park across the street. "There!" he exclaimed. He and Matt crossed the street, and pushed through the crowd of rather distressed-looking citizens. One young woman had even fainted into a young man's arms. It was not hard to see why. When the crowd finally parted for them, they saw the most horrific sight.

Nailed to the tree, completely stripped bare of any clothing, was a female body. Blood, dried and fresh alike stained her skin, and a mottled pattern of bruises dotted her neck and wrists. But worst of all, the poor woman's head was no where to be seen. The jagged line of her neck was the only indication that she'd ever had one.

Matt's hand flew to his mouth, desperately trying not to retch at the sight. The Doctor looked equally perturbed, but he regained his senses faster than his companion. He turned around, dug into his pocket, and pulled out a policeman's badge.

"Scotland Yard!" he shouted over the din of the crowd. He flashed the badge to everyone. "Everyone, stand back!"

They did as he said, and some looked relieved to see that an official was on the job. The Doctor tucked the badge back where it came from and turned to Matt, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You alright?"

He stuttered wordlessly for a while before he found his voice. "I-It's not… God, please, tell me that's not…"

The Doctor glanced at the body. "How tall is Clara?" he asked. Matt stared at him. "How tall?" he repeated, with a far harsher tone.

"I-... Shorter than me... ?"

Another glance at the body. "That's not Clara."

"What? How do you-?"

"She's too tall. Six feet at least."

Matt felt a sickening sense of relief, which was quickly replaced with full revulsion. Even though he was glad it wasn't Clara, some poor woman was still dead, her body displayed like some grotesque art show. "Might be one of the other girls," he heard the Doctor murmur. Matt tore his eyes away from the girl and paced around the tree. The Doctor could 'examine' the body all he wanted. Matt just couldn't look at it anymore.

His foot knocked into something; he looked down at it. It was a doll… Or at least part of one. Much like the girl, the doll's head was missing. Ignoring the immediate dread he felt, Matt picked up the disfigured toy to examine it further. Its extremities, like the hands and the feet, were made of porcelain, while the body was a softer leather, and it wore a purple silk dress, which was embroidered with silver embellishments. Its feet were decorated with painted-on slippers. Even its tiny hands had lace gloves. But driven through the wrists of the doll were small pins, not unlike the nails holding the real girl to the tree. Matt swallowed the rising bile in his throat and forced himself to speak.

"Doctor!" he called out. The detective's head poked around the side of the tree.

"What?"

He held up the doll. The Doctor walked over to him, allowing Matt to give him the macabre toy.

"Interesting…" he muttered. "Some sort of message, maybe? Or a clue left by the killer? It definitely looks like a collector's piece. What do you make of it, Matthew?"

"I think it's bloody disgusting," he spat. "Can we… Can we leave, please?"

The Doctor eyed him with understanding. "Yeah, of course. The real Scotland Yard will be here soon anyway. They don't usually like it when I pretend to be them." He looked down at the doll. "Besides, I know someone who can make better sense of this thing than me. Come on."

With one hand still holding their newly-acquired evidence, the Doctor used his other hand to gently push Matt away from the crime scene. The crowd of observers parted respectfully for the man they still thought of as an officer, and he only nodded at them. He didn't take particular notice of any of them, and so he failed to see the young woman near the front, who, though she was already pale and trembling, almost fainted at the sight of the doll in his hand. This woman turned and ran from the scene, but no one even noticed her leave.

* * *

><p>After calling another cab, the Doctor and Matt were off once again in search of answers. Matt was distressingly quiet for most of the ride, but the Doctor knew why.<p>

"Are you sure you're okay?" he risked asking.

The question seemed to startle Matt. "I… I don't know."

"You know…" The Doctor took a deep breath, then exhaled it. "You don't… _have _to do this. I don't want to make you uncomfortable-"

At that, Matt scoffed. "Uncomfortable? Bloody traumatized is more like it." The Doctor flinched with guilt, an action not unnoticed by the tutor. "But… No, I need to do this. I need to find Clara, now more than ever." His jaw was set with admirable determination. "If that poor girl was connected to the disappearances at all, then my sister is in more danger than I thought. And… And even if she's not, someone needs to find justice for that girl."

The detective stared at his companion for a long time before his features settled into a relieved smile. "Well said, Matthew," was all he said in reply.

Matt looked away, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "... Where are we going? You never said."

"Friend of mine runs an antique shop. I figure he'll be able to tell us more about the doll and its origins."

"You've got an awful lot of friends."

"All the better to solve crimes with," he grinned. Matt rolled his eyes, and the cab continued towards their unknown- at least to the tutor- destination.

Soon enough, a quaint little shop came into view; _Noble Antiques _was painted on the shop's sign in elegant writing. The Doctor and Matt stepped out of the cab and went inside, senses immediately barraged with the smells of brick, parchment, and tea. The inside of the shop was filled from head to toe with various objects, ranging from old pottery to dusty furniture. It was reminiscent of the Doctor's house. Except, Matt noticed, there was an impressive number of porcelain dolls lain throughout the store.

An old man was sat at the front desk near the register, though instead of looking like an attentive shopkeeper, he was sipping idly at a cup of tea while reading a book. He didn't even appear to notice the two new customers that had walked into the store.

The Doctor beamed at the sight of the old man, and walked through the cluttered shop with ease. Then again, he was probably used to stepping around things. Matt walked with more caution.

"Wilfred!" the Doctor called, which caused the old man to jump.

The man, after recovering from his shock, narrowed his eyes. "David? Is that you?"

"Good to see you, Wilf!" The Doctor and the man, Wilfred, both laughed with delight as they shook each others' hands, like a pair of old friends finally reunited. "How's business?" the detective asked conversationally.

"Oh, you know," Wilfred shrugged. "Same as usual. What can I do for you? Are you here to see Donna? Cause she's out right now-"

"No no, it's you I actually wanted to talk to." The Doctor turned around and beckoned Matt to come closer. He did so, but with a small amount of trepidation. "This is Matthew Oswald, a new client of mine. Matthew, this is Wilfred Mott."

"Lovely to meet you," Matt said politely, shaking Wilfred's offered hand. Wilfred smiled at the young man.

"And you. A client, eh? What sort of trouble have you got?"

Matt glanced at the Doctor quickly. "It's a bit complicated. But basically, the Doctor is helping me find my sister."

Wilfred nodded his understanding. "He'll get the job done, I can tell you that much. He's brilliant- helped out my family more times than I can count! Why, my granddaughter-!"

"Right," interjected the Doctor, who for the first time since Matt met him, looked embarrassed.

"But in order to find Matthew's sister, we need to find out where this," he produced the doll from seemingly nowhere, "came from." He looked back over to Matt. "Wilf's been running this store for years. If anyone knows anything about antiques, it's him."

Ignoring the praise, the old shopkeeper stared at the doll. "Where's the head?"

"Long story. Can it still tell us anything important without the head?"

"Well, it's expensive. Worth more than any of the dolls I've got here." He tapped on the porcelain hands. "Looks like a Parian doll."

"Parian?" echoed Matt.

"They're called that cause they look like some type of fancy Greek marble. These dolls aren't for kids, though. They're used for decoration. You know, aristocat homes and the like." Wilfred looked at the beheaded doll and frowned. "But I don't see any use for a headless one. What happened to it?"

"Really Wilf, we don't know. But it's all a part of the mystery." The Doctor picked up the doll. "Alright, so it's an expensive doll. What does that tell us?"

"Whoever's behind all this is rich?" shrugged Matt. "Or at least has expensive taste. You wouldn't waste an item like that unless you could spare it."

"Right-o, Matthew. We should head back to Tardis Street and start looking at city maps for places that fit that description."

"We should?" Matt raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Come on, let's go." The Doctor grinned at Wilfred once more. "Thanks for the help, Wilf. Tell Donna I said hello."

"Any time, David. And it was a pleasure meeting you, Matthew."

Matt smiled at the shopkeeper, and didn't bother correcting him about his name. As much as it bothered him when the Doctor did it, Wilfred genuinely didn't know that he preferred Matt. So he merely let the Doctor lead him back outside, while Wilfred went back to his tea and reading.

"I still don't understand," the tutor said as they got into another cab, "Why a doll?"

"It's a practice of some brothels," answered the Doctor. "The doll is supposed to represent a girl. Customers take the doll of the girl they want and… you know. Spend the night with them. It lets other customers know who's taken for the night and who isn't."

Matt made a face. "That's horrific."

"Exactly."

The cab began a slow trot back to Tardis Street, and both men were silent for the duration of the ride, contemplating the new horror they'd gotten themselves into.

* * *

><p><strong>As always, please tell me what you think!<strong>


	3. The Doctor and the Dolls III

**A couple new characters are introduced here. Don't have much else to say, so... Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>If Danny Pink had a list for all the times he ever felt uncomfortable, this would probably be number one.<p>

The young soldier, fresh from duty in India, shifted his feet awkwardly as yet another scantily-dressed woman passed him by. You see, after leaving service, Danny had been looking for work in London. He had no family in the city, but plenty of friends. One of these friends (though he was reconsidering calling him that after his ordeal) suggested a 'bustling bar' he knew of in the lower dregs of the city that needed extra security. Danny, grateful, went to find this bar- The Silent Lady by name- and managed to secure a job as a door guard.

What his 'friend' had failed to mention was that the bar was, in fact, a brothel.

An exceedingly popular one, if the number of male guests pouring through the doors were any indication. Danny didn't know the common standards of establishments such as this one, but the high ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and elegant furnishings were clear indicators that only the high-class could feel comfortable here. That was one reason the soldier felt so tense. There was also a collection of dolls arranged on fancy gilded shelves, towards the area where the brothel's "real business" was conducted. They had terrifying blank expressions, their perfect painted faces staring at nothing.

The last reason for his discomfort was the girls themselves.

Their way of dress wasn't helping. In the back of his mind, he wondered how many of them were actually freezing with their lack of coverage. But besides that, most of them had the exact same expressions as the dolls. No one seemed to notice, or care. And that unnerved him to no end.

A tap on his shoulder snapped Danny out of his thoughts, and he turned to see a bulky older man standing in front of him.

"Pink," he muttered, voice gruff, "Shift's up. My turn."

"Oh." Danny stepped aside to let the man take his place. "Thanks, Charles. I'll just be heading home…"

"You always go 'ome straightaway?" asked Charles, tilting his head. "You never stay for the girls?"

Danny was caught off-guard by the questions. "What?"

"You know, the Mistress of the 'ouse gives us guards a discount." Charles winked. "Why don't you take a seat with one of the ladies? You always look so serious."

"Oh, no, really, I'm fine," Danny tried, but Charles had already moved past him. He pulled at the first slender arm he saw and tugged its owner from the crowd. She was a pretty young thing, though the way she glared at Charles for manhandling her was surprisingly scary. Completely unlike the other girls...

"You," he spoke to girl as if she was a child. "Entertain my young friend 'ere, will ya?"

"Entertain him yourself," she growled, eyes narrowed dangerously. Danny felt a strange surge of both fear and fascination. Charles did not.

"Oi, watch yourself, girlie. Don't want the Madam to know 'ow rude you're being to one of 'er guards, do you?" The girl glowered, but reluctantly shook her head. Charles grinned smugly. "There we go. Watch yourself around this one, Pink," he laughed. "She's feisty."

Danny could say nothing when the girl grabbed his hand and began forcibly pulling him along. She was quite strong for one so… petite. He had no choice but to follow her until they reached one of the luxurious seating areas, which were blocked off from the rest of the brothel with heavy curtains. The girl pushed him into a seat, pulled the curtains around, and sat down as far from his as possible, frowning the entire time.

Stunned by this turn of events, Danny turned to look at the girl. The seating area had gas lamps installed in the ceiling above, so he could still see her quite well. She was _very _pretty, he noted. Soft brown curls cascaded down her shoulders and back, and she wasn't overly painted with makeup, like some of the other girls he'd seen. Her heart-shaped face had an almost angelic quality to it. Her clothes weren't too revealing either, though the low neckline of her red dress made him focus on her face, and not the rest of her body.

He hesitated. "Er… Hello?"

All he got in response was a soft grunt.

"Um… I'm Danny," he tried. "Danny Pink."

She looked at him, though she never lost her hateful glare. "Oswin."

"That's, um… An interesting name?" In hindsight, names probably weren't topics one usually discussed with prostitutes, but Danny didn't dare to think of the alternatives. Anyway, Oswin had raised an eyebrow at him, and the hateful look was momentarily gone.

"Says the man named Pink," she gibed.

Danny felt relieved that she was no longer hostile. At least for the moment. "Well, that's why I prefer Danny. I don't really fancy my name."

She smiled sadly. "Neither do I."

The soldier stared. If she was pretty before, her smile made her beautiful. The only thing that would further improve her countenance would be if she were actually smiling from joy. He coughed into his fist. "Well, I guess we've both got bad luck, then."

"Tell me about it," Oswin grumbled. She looked at Danny properly for the first time since they'd… 'been introduced' to each other. Then, with narrowed eyes, she asked, "Are you a soldier?"

Danny blinked. "Y-Yeah. Or, I was. Is it obvious?"

"My uncle was a soldier; I know the look. Plus, you sit like I'm your commanding officer and you're about to get court martialed or something," Oswin grinned impishly. "Relax. I don't bite. If somebody walks in on us and sees you sitting like that, they'll think I'm not doing my job."

"O-Oh. Sorry." He tried relaxing his limbs, and found himself practically melting into the seat. Was he really sitting so rigidly?

"Better?" he asked, attempting a smile.

Oswin nodded, her face drawn into a calculated, poised look. She suddenly reminded Danny of a governess. "Much." Then the look vanished, and Oswin leaned forwards, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. "So, Mister Pink… How are you adjusting to life as an ordinary civilian?"

"It's… strange," he answered honestly. "But I really don't miss being on the front."

"You didn't like serving?"

"Not as much as I thought I would. My father was an officer, and so was his father, and… Well, you get the idea. Turns out I'm the black sheep."

"Nothing wrong with being different," she said. "My father owned a shop and my mother was a stay-at-home. But my brother decided he wanted to go and be a tutor."

Danny smiled. "How'd that go over with your family?"

"They were mostly worried about the money university would cost," she shrugged. "But he took several jobs in our village and managed to pay his tuition mostly by himself."

"Mostly, eh?"

"Our uncle may have contributed a bit. But he worked hard at it, too."

"Your brother sounds like an interesting man."

"Yeah…" Oswin's eyes became glazed over in a mix of fondness and misery. "I haven't seen him in so long."

Danny felt a stab of sympathy for the young woman. "Does he live in London?" She nodded. "Why haven't you gone to see him?"

"It's… complicated," she sighed. "I want to. But I can't. Not while I'm stuck here. And I can't exactly _leave_."

There was a long silence, and then… "I could… I could look for him for you." Danny almost didn't believe he'd said that. It was only Oswin's shocked expression that even confirmed he did. He'd just offered to _help _a prostitute he'd only met just shy of ten minutes ago.

"W-... Would you?" Oswin's voice was small. "Would you really do that?"

Danny gulped. "I-I mean, if he's in London… I can probably find him. Maybe..."

Oswin stared at him for five seconds before breaking into a huge smile, and that was what broke Danny Pink. She threw her arms out and managed to close the distance between them in a flash, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight hug. Danny stumbled back from the surprise weight, cheeks colored the same as his name.

"Thank you," she whispered in his ear. Her voice was strained now, as though she were holding back tears.

"N...No problem." Danny tentatively patted her back. She pulled away, though her arms were still secured around his neck, so their faces were centimeters apart. "I… I'll need his name. Your brother's, I mean. So I can find him."

"Right," Oswin nodded, wiping at her eyes with one hand, the other still touching Danny. So she had almost cried… "His name is-"

At that moment, the curtains cutting them off from the rest of the world were wrenched open, momentarily blinding them with the added light from the outside.

"Miss Oswin," a stern but feminine voice called out. Danny let his eyes adjust to the brightness and saw another woman standing in front of them. Mature but still gracefully beautiful, she wore an aristocratic dress that properly covered her body, so he knew right away she wasn't a prostitute. An expectant eyebrow was raised at the sight of the young girl still holding onto Danny Pink.

"M-Mistress!" she exclaimed, leaping away from Danny. He grew concerned with her sudden nervousness.

"Miss Tabby needs this booth to entertain Mister Blakely," the woman said, tilting her head back to indicate the couple behind her. "If you and this gentleman are not done, kindly move to one of the rooms, won't you?"

Oswin glanced at Danny, who stared back at her. "N-No, Mistress, we're done. Tabby may have the seats."

"Good. Now take this gentleman's pay." The woman turned around to leave, but before she took another step, she tossed her head back to address Oswin once more. "And one more thing: look for Miss Lottie, won't you? She hasn't turned up today."

"Yes, Mistress."

The woman left them. Oswin stood up, smoothed down her dress, and offered a hand to a stunned Danny, who took it and stood up himself. They walked through the brothel back to the entrance, which seemed noisier than ever now. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"It's fine," he replied. "H-How much… How much do I pay you?"

She gave him a half-smile. "How about this: first night is free. Come back tomorrow and you'll have to pay."

"That's… That's very kind of you."

"Consider it thanks." They stopped at the door, where Charles was still standing, though he now had a bottle of rum in one hand and didn't appear to be very aware of his surroundings. Oswin, without warning, once more embraced Danny, but this time he was prepared for it. He hugged her in return, and didn't react when she whispered in his ear again.

"Matt Oswald."

When they broke apart, Danny nodded, his face solemn. Oswin leaned up to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you, Mister Pink."

"Miss Oswin," he responded, "it's my honor."

* * *

><p>The Doctor's study was far more crowded than his sitting room. Matt was finding it difficult to stand anywhere, let alone sit as the Doctor had told him to. But the Doctor stepped through the clutter like an experienced explorer navigating a dense jungle. He had in his arms a collection of maps, each of which detailed a section of the city of London. The detective spread the maps across a large table, laying them like a puzzle, connecting streets and roads together. Martha stood off to the side with Matt, both watching the man zip around the table, like a bee around a flower.<p>

"So, this is most of London," the Doctor said, not looking up from the maps. "There are a number of brothels and less-than-reputable associations throughout the city, but the ones _we're _looking at…" he withdrew a fountain pen from a dislodged drawer nearby and circled a number of locations on the map, "... are these."

"What makes them so special?" asked Matt.

"These are the brothels most famous for catering to a 'higher standing'. Lords, politicians, and any number of seemingly-respectable people come to find their 'fun' here." The Doctor tapped the edge of the pen on the map, his face twisted into an unpleasant frown.

Matt raised an eyebrow, folding his arms together over his chest. "How is it you know about these places, Doctor?"

The detective gave him a weary glare. "It was a case a long time ago." And that was all he said. Martha was looking at the Doctor with nothing but sympathy, while Matt was only further intrigued. However, the tired look of the man stopped him from inquiring further. So he only nodded that he understood, and left it at that.

"So, what do we do? We're not going to go to each and every one of these brothels, are we?"

"Well, no," admitted the Doctor. "Even though these are the places the doll was most likely to have come from, there's still too many for us to move in and search for Clara. Without arousing suspicion, anyway."

Martha finally spoke. "So what's our next move?"

"There's not a lot of options. Before, this was a simple kidnapping case, but now a murder has been thrown into the mix." The Doctor ran a hand down his face. "I'd like it if we had an expert on hand, but…"

"An expert on brothels?" Matt was incredulous.

The Doctor only shrugged. "More of an expert than me, at least. A friend of mine, Jack, he's… very social. He doesn't usually go to these institutions, but… He's more aware of them than I am. Or care to be." The detective stared pensively at the map, mouth drawn into a tight frown. Matt wondered if perhaps this Jack had helped the Doctor with that one case a long time ago.

The sound of the knocker resounded through the house, causing all three to look towards the door. Martha smoothed down her maid's uniform and excused herself to answer the door.

"I really hope that's not another client," the Doctor groaned. "I can't take on another case."

Matt didn't reply, as Martha's loud exclamation cut him off, followed by a boisterous, male laugh. The Doctor's eyes widened and he ran out of the room. Matt, stunned, followed after a few moments had passed. Navigating through the house's hallways, Matt found himself once again in the main foyer, but there was added company present.

A tall and attractive man wearing a long military overcoat and a bright smile was currently enveloping Martha in a hug. The maid was smiling as well, so the man must not have been a stranger to her. And the Doctor was staring in dumbfounded disbelief at the man, as if he were a ghost come from the grave.

The man caught sight of the Doctor staring at him and let go of Martha. "Well, if it isn't Davey!" he laughed, voice deep and tinged with an American accent. "It's not often I manage to catch you at home!"

The Doctor finally found his voice. "Jack?"

"You seem surprised," the man, apparently the famous 'Jack' they'd just spoken about, grinned.

"We were just talking about you," supplied Martha. "We didn't think you'd be back so soon."

"Well, that's London for you. Such a beautiful city keeps calling me back." He winked at Martha, who looked away with a bashful smile. Jack turned his head and finally saw Matt standing there, looking confused and slightly awkward as the trio of friends around him reunited. Another broad, handsome smile lit up Jack's face. "And _who _is this?" He strode across the foyer and offered a hand to the tutor.

Startled, Matt allowed the man to grab his hand and shake it. "I-I'm Matt. M-Matt Oswald," he stuttered, still shocked by Jack's sudden appearance.

"Hello Matt," Jack murmured, not releasing his hand. "Captain Jack Harkness." He flashed Matt a charming smirk, and the tutor actually felt his cheeks heat up at the obvious flirtation.

"Don't you start!" The Doctor shouted, marching towards them.

"I was just saying hello," Jack complained. He glanced at Matt. "He gets so jealous," he added, smiling mischievously.

"Matthew doesn't need you 'saying hello' to him," the detective muttered.

"I-it's fine," Matt said, startling himself. "I don't mind."

The Doctor stared at him while Jack beamed.

"You don't?"

"Not really," Matt smiled sheepishly.

"I like him," Jack said to the Doctor, never taking his eyes off the flustered tutor. "Is he yours?"

The Doctor's eyes went wide as he blushed dark red. "He's a client!" he squeaked. "_Just _a client!"

"Is he? Well then," Jack slipped around the Doctor and looped an arm around Matt's shoulders, "is there anything little ol' Jack can help you with?"

The Doctor scowled, while Martha merely looked amused at the entire scene.

"_Actually, _there is." Grabbing Jack by the collar, the Doctor pulled him off of his client and back to his study, where the map with the circled brothels lay patiently. Matt and Martha shared a look and soon followed after them.

* * *

><p>It had grown late when Jack was finally all caught up on the current happenings in the Doctor's life. He now knew about Clara and her relation to Matt, as well as her disappearance, which was linked to several others that had recently occurred. Of course, the captain agreed to help out, but seeing the hour on the clock, he suggested that they all rest their heads and wait until morning to continue their investigation.<p>

Matt was startled, not realizing how dark it had grown outside, and prepared himself to go back to his lodgings at 21 Aickman Road, but the Doctor wouldn't have it.

"Just stay the night here," he insisted. "We've got room."

Since the Doctor promised to call the Owens family and let them know where he was, and because Matt was incredibly tired from the day's events, he agreed, allowing Martha to take him upstairs to the guest bedrooms. It was bizarre, how small the house seemed on the outside, when the inside was much more spacious. He commented so to Martha, but all the maid did in reply was laugh.

"Everyone says that," she explained.

She left Matt in a decently comfortable room, though signs of the Doctor's presence (such as various gadgets and books) were still strewn about. It wasn't unmanageable, though. A pair of night clothes were folded up on the neatly-made bed. Matt turned around to close the door so he could change, but as he faced the outside, he was met with the sight of Captain Jack Harkness yet again.

The man was leaning against the doorframe, looking as casual as ever with his smile. "Thought I'd drop in to say goodnight."

"Oh. Well…"

"And," Jack interjected, before Matt could say more, "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

"... For what?"

He pushed himself off the doorframe and stepped into the room, closer to the tutor. "About your sister. It must be hard for you."

Matt swallowed the lump in his throat, which recently started appearing whenever anyone mentioned Clara. "I-It is. But I'm sure the Doctor will find her."

"Oh, he definitely will. I've known Davey for a long time. He's one of the cleverest men I've ever known."

Matt felt a smile tug at his lips. "Davey?"

Jack shrugged. "It's what his brother calls him. He hates it."

"Then why do you call him that?"

"He's cute when he's annoyed." Matt laughed, and Jack smiled at the sound. "Anyway, enough about Davey. I've been informed that you're a tutor?" The captain stepped closer, though Matt stayed in place.

"I am," he replied. "Is that important?"

"Just wondering if I should call you Mr. Oswald instead."

"Not unless you're one of my students. And that doesn't seem likely. You appear very well-educated, Captain Harkness."

"Oh, I've still got a lot to learn."

"Do you now?"

Jack gave a roguish and possibly dirty grin. "Maybe you could give me some private lessons?"

Just as Matt's cheeks turned pink, the Doctor suddenly appeared in the doorway. He was still dressed in his day clothes, but a small frown marred his otherwise attractive face.

"Are you still harassing my client?" he asked suspiciously.

Jack raised his hands above his head in mock-surrender. "I was just saying goodnight! Christ, Davey, you sure he's not yours?"

"I'm not anyone's," supplied Matt, vaguely annoyed.

The Doctor pointed gratefully at the tutor. "Exactly! Thank you! And you," he turned to Jack, "stop calling me Davey. It's bad enough when Chris does it."

"Never gonna happen." Jack turned his head back to Matt. "Goodnight, _Mr. Oswald."_

The blush that was finally fading away came back full-force on Matt's face, as Jack winked at him and strode out the door. The captain also said a goodnight to the Doctor, but the detective only rolled his eyes in reply.

"Sorry about him," he said, with a genuine look of sympathy. "Can't find a way to turn him off."

"It's fine, really, Doctor. Or should I say Davey?"

"Oh Matthew, please, no," the Doctor groaned. "Not you too!"

"Stop calling me Matthew and I won't call you Davey," he smirked.

"I…" The Doctor sighed. "Fine. Deal. But it might slip out sometimes," he warned.

"Fair enough." Matt yawned and brought his hand up to cover his mouth.

"Sorry," the Doctor said quickly. "You're probably tired. I should let you sleep."

"It _has _been a long day." Matt smiled. "Goodnight, Doctor."

"Goodnight, Matthe-... Matt. I said Matt."

With one last chuckle, Matt turned away from the detective, walking towards his bed. The Doctor sighed and closed the bedroom door for him. When he walked away from the room, he saw Martha waiting for him at the end of the hallway.

"I've called the Owens," she said. "They know where Matt is. They sounded very worried at first."

"Wouldn't you be?" asked the Doctor. "His sister goes missing and then he runs off with a mysterious man and is gone for hours."

"That last part happens a lot to you."

A shrug. "Occupational hazard, I suppose. Goodnight, Martha."

She curtsied, watching him go down the hallway to his room.

"Goodnight, Doctor Smith."

* * *

><p><strong>Hehehe. So now we've started hinting at the Doctor's attraction to Matt, but it'll still take a while. You know the Victorians.<strong>


	4. The Doctor and the Dolls IV

**Hey, my fellow Whovians! Sorry this took a while. I'm still in school, so... yeah.**

**Anyway, enjoy the next installment of The Doctor and the Dolls!**

* * *

><p>"It's awful! Just awful!" Mary sobbed, makeup running down her face as fresh tears dropped off onto the bedsheets below her. "Poor Lottie…!"<p>

Several other girls were crowded around her, some offering words of comfort and sympathy, others just looking plain distressed. Oswin was among these girls, though she stared blankly at the abandoned newspaper beside Mary. A big, emboldened headline declared the grim news.

"**GRUESOME MURDER AT HAPLAND PARK- BEHEADED WOMAN CRUCIFIED."**

A picture of the large tree in Hapland Park was underneath the headline. No body was affixed to it, but dried smears of blood were clearly evident, even in the black-and-white photo. But Oswin didn't feel sick, or even nauseous. All she felt was numb.

"And you saw it, Mary?" asked one of the girls, her eyes wide with horror and curiosity. "You saw the body?"

Mary nodded, her tiny body still shaking with sobs. "It was so awful! L-Lottie, with her head cut off…! And her _doll!"_

"Doll?" The very word snapped Oswin out of her trance. "Her doll was there?"

Mary took a shuddering breath before continuing. "Ay, it was. And it was in the same state as her! Its head was gone and pins were driven through its wrists."

"The article didn't mention that…" Oswin frowned.

"It was taken away by two policemen, I saw it!" affirmed Mary. One girl wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her close.

"It's okay Mary, we believe you," she whispered comfortingly.

"We can't really be surprised," said another girl, named Maggie. "After that stunt Lottie tried to pull a few days ago… It's not wonder she got herself killed."

"What do you mean?" asked Oswin.

Maggie gawked at her. "Ain't it obvious? She was trying to tell people about The Silent Lady! So the Mistress had her shut up!"

"You think the Mistress did this?" Mary gaped.

"Well, not her specifically," said yet another girl. "But she could have hired a guard to do it. Returned soldiers will do anything for a job," she snorted.

Oswin felt a pang of irritation, but didn't comment on it.

"So the Mistress had Lottie killed," she said instead. "All because she was trying to tell people the truth about us?"

"I doubt it would have put much of a dent in the business," admitted one girl. "These people don't care if we were kidnapped or not."

"Still, she can't risk someone actually caring. She could still get arrested. So when someone threatens to talk..." Maggie dragged her index finger along her neck; the girls, sans Oswin, gasped. "Lottie was just a warning to the rest of us. We'll end up like her if we cross the Mistress."

"Don't you think the police will trace the doll back to us?" asked Mary, who had started to calm just a bit.

"Plenty of other establishments use the doll system," Maggie retorted. "The Mistress is evil, not daft. And she cut their heads off, so no one can identify them."

"Then…" A girl turned sickly green with realization. "Where _is_ Lottie's head?"

Hushed murmurs spread throughout the room. But no one else had a chance to speak, for the door swung open and a feminine figure walked inside. All the girls bowed their heads immediately with respect as the figure strode past them, tall heels tapping against the floor.

"Good morning, girls," said the figure in a chipper tone.

"Good morning, Mistress," they all replied in sync.

The Mistress's eyes fell on the newspaper. "A tragedy. A truly despicable incident. Don't you think, Miss Mary?" The ice cold gaze turned on the girl.

Mary froze. "I- Y-Yes, M-Mistress. Very horrible."

"There are such awful people in the world nowadays," the Mistress sighed, her red lips parted just so. "I do hope nothing so terrible befalls any of you."

"Thank you, Mistress," was chorused in response.

"Very good," she clapped, causing most of them to jump. "Now, all of you, get up. We have another busy day ahead of us."

She turned on her heel and left them, leaving the scent of her perfume in her wake. Many of the girls stood up and began walking towards the wardrobes to change. Oswin was just a few steps away from it herself when she felt her arm tugged, suddenly and harshly. She whirled around and was face-to-face with Maggie.

"That soldier man you talked to last night," she whispered. "You didn't say anything, did you?"

"What?" Oswin blinked. "No, I didn't tell him anything about The Silent Lady!"

"Then what were you hugging him for? Clara, you're never that affectionate with the other guests!" Maggie pulled her closer, staring pleadingly into her eyes. "Please, I don't want you to end up like Charlotte."

"I…" Oswin sighed. "I really didn't say anything about the girls. I just… told him about my brother." She smiled faintly at the memory of Danny Pink.

"And that's all?" Maggie pushed further. "You didn't ask him to do anything for you?"

"Well… H-He offered to find my brother for me."

Maggie's face fell. "Clara!" she hissed. "That could be just as dangerous! What if your brother sees you like this and tries to help?"

"'If'? He's my brother, of course he'll help!" she replied angrily. "But he's not an idiot, and neither is Danny!"

"Clara, calm down!" hushed Maggie. "Okay, okay… Maybe they're not idiots. Charlotte wasn't, either. I just…" She closed her eyes, exhaustion having completely overtaken her. Oswin frowned, reaching a hand out to her friend. When her fingers made contact with her shoulder, Maggie opened her eyes again. "I don't want to lose anymore friends."

"You won't," she promised. "I'm not going anywhere." Oswin looked around the room; most of the girls had finished changing and half of them had left already. "Come on," she wrapped her hand around Maggie's. "We should get going."

Maggie nodded, and let Oswin pull her back towards the wardrobe. They had to dress for work, after all.

* * *

><p>The sun was once again hidden by clouds when the morning came, but no one felt particularly gloomy at Number 10 Tardis Street. In fact, the air was almost abuzz with anticipation. The morning meant a new start on their ongoing investigation of the missing girls, and that had Matt Oswald practically itching to get outside. He was the first to wake up, first to dress, and first downstairs in the dining room. Well, aside from Martha. The maid spared him a drowsy good morning as she completed her morning routine. Matt was so restless he ended up helping her through most of it, just for the sake of having something to do. Within an hour, the table was set, food prepared and served, and both early-risers were seated at the table, awaiting the rest of the house. Martha didn't say much, just wearily responding to any of Matt's quips. He gathered that she was not much of a morning person.<p>

After ten minutes, the Doctor finally appeared in the dining room. He now wore a blue suit in place of his pinstripes, and a pair of reading glasses was affixed to his face.

"Good morning, everyone," he smiled, taking a seat across from Matt. "Glad to see my brother's clothes fit you... Kept the bow tie, though, hm?"

Matt looked down at his apparel, which had been provided for him earlier, folded up on his bed in the same manner as his night clothes. It was a common dark suit with a grey waistcoat, though anyone could see that it was a tad too big for the tutor. And true to the Doctor's words, the same bow tie Matt had worn the day before was still around his neck. He touched the tie and frowned.

"I told you, they look nice."

"Mmhm." The Doctor reached for his plate and coughed something that sounded suspiciously like 'posh' before he started eating. Not a minute later did Jack Harkness make his entrance. He greeted the rest of them with a smile, and pulled out a newspaper from behind his back. He placed it on the table for them all to see.

The Doctor frowned. Matt immediately froze. And Martha stared at the paper with wide and fully awake eyes.

"I'm assuming this is related to the girl you stumbled upon yesterday?"

Indeed, the sickening display Matt and the Doctor had seen was now plastered on the front page of the paper. Except the girl was now missing from the tree. Of course, the image may have been too much for the general public to handle.

"Yeah," the Doctor answered, after regaining his senses. "That's where we found her. Not exactly a good early morning topic, Jack."

"It seems to be causing quite a stir, though. Jack the Ripper II, or so they say."

The Doctor snorted. "Please."

Matt coughed as politely as he could into his fist. "What's our plan?"

"I've got a few friends I made in India," smiled Jack. "Most of them were soldiers about to return home to Britain. And when soldiers are out of work, bars and brothels are the most likely places they'll go. Usually for security and the occasional drunken patron."

"So Jack's going to contact his friends and see if any of them know about the murdered girl," explained the Doctor. "Like if a girl from a brothel has gone missing."

Matt nodded. "Okay. But how do you know if they'll talk to you?" he asked Jack.

"Oh trust me," the captain flashed his usual flirty grin, winking at the tutor. "I can get anyone to talk."

"Hate to admit it, but he's usually right," the Doctor muttered.

"Is there anyway I can help?" Matt continued.

"You and the Doctor are coming with me," said Jack. "Going it alone is so boring."

"And Martha will remain here, in case anyone wants to drop by and give us more information," added the Doctor. "After seeing that article, someone's bound to know something." Martha yawned in reply, probably confirming what the Doctor said.

The ate their breakfast in comfortable silence, and soon, the men were off to the city's less reputable parts, while Martha dutifully remained behind at Number 10 Tardis Street.

It was a surprisingly short cab ride from the Doctor's house to the lower side of London, where most of the brothels and shady hangouts Jack knew of were located. Of course, it might have just felt that way to Matt, since being stuck in a cab with both the Doctor and Captain Jack Harkness was like being trapped in a box with two records playing on loop; they were both talking a mile a minute, barely pausing for breath as they went over their strategy. Matt tuned them out eventually, but he did catch the basic premise of their plan. Jack would go in front of them and search out any familiar faces he knew. Then the 'interrogation' would begin, with the Doctor and Matt keeping an eye out for any trouble.

The cab pulled up to a noisy tavern, which was already full at that hour of morning. The three men left the carriage and walked inside, Jack heading the trio with his best charming grin. The inside of the tavern was dirty, and the air smelt suspiciously damp, but it seemed that none of the patrons noticed, or even cared, as they kept drinking and laughing with the same rancor as any man would in any other establishment.

The patrons themselves appeared to fit in perfectly with the environment, unlike the well-dressed Jack and Matt. The Doctor blended in a little better, with his raggedy overcoat, but unlike the rest of the place, he had all of his teeth still remaining in his mouth. Several patrons gave the trio a mean glare, and whether they were suspicious or just unfriendly, Matt didn't know. He stepped a little closer to the Doctor anyway. Jack appeared to spot a familiar face sitting at a booth in the far corner of the bar, and approached him with a long stride that made the Doctor and Matt struggle to keep up.

"If it isn't Charles Ashden!" Jack's voice boomed, barely reaching over the clamor of the tavern. The man at the bar turned to face the source of the voice. His face lit up with recognition.

"Captain Jack!" he laughed. He stood up, swerving slightly, which indicated the state of his intoxication, but he gripped the edge of the bar tightly and kept smiling as if he were fine. "What're you doing in London?"

"Oh, you know. This and that." Jack reached the man and gripped his hand in a strong greeting. "Didn't expect you to come home so soon, though."

"Apparently I'm gettin' on years," answered Charles. "But 'onestly, I think they didn't want me to drink the rest o' their ale!" They both laughed at that. Once he calmed, Charles spotted the Doctor and Matt standing behind Jack. "Oi, who're they?"

Jack looked back at them. "Just some friends. Thought I'd show them the more exciting parts of London."

"'Friends,'" Charles snorted. "Still up to your usual games, Harkness?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Jack defended, his face the very picture of innocence. "They're just friends. You'll always be my favorite," he joked.

"Oi, none o' that!" Charles swatted away Jack's incoming arm, meant for his shoulders. "You know I ain't one o' them!"

"Your loss," Jack winked. Charles rolled his eyes at the same time the Doctor did. Suddenly, Jack leaned in towards his old army friend. "So, Charles. How have you been settling in after India?"

Charles blinked. "Er… Well, uh, I've gotten myself a job. Pay's decent, but nothin' I'd brag about."

"A job doing what? Where?"

"Awful lot of questions tonight, Harkness."

"I'm feeling awfully inquisitive tonight. So?"

Charles regarded him silently for a few agonizing seconds before he spoke again. "It's called the Silent Lady," he finally answered. "It's a nice place."

"The Silent Lady," Jack repeated. "I know it… That's a new brothel, right?"

"Now, don't be gettin' all high an' mighty, Captain," Charles muttered sourly. "Plenty of respectful people pass through those doors."

"I'll bet."

The Doctor stepped forwards then. "Sorry. Charles, was it?" He waited for the man to nod. "David Smith, nice to meet you. I was wondering… Have you noticed anything strange going on at the… Silent Lady?"

"Strange?" Charles' brow furrowed. "'ow d'you mean?"

"Just anything… out of the ordinary."

"Look mate, I just guard the front door. I might occassionally enjoy the company of a pretty young thing," he grinned, ignoring the Doctor's scowl, "but I don't pry into my employer's business, alright?"

"Okay, Charles, we get it." Jack ran a hand through his hair. "Thanks anyway."

Just as the Captain began to turn away, Charles called out again. "You know, Danny works at the Lady, too."

Jack turned back. "Pink?"

"Yeah. One of the other blokes recommended 'im for a job. We both guard the doors, but he might know more then me. 'e got pretty familiar with a lady last night," he winked.

Jack hummed, musing over this new information. "Any idea where I can find him?"

Charles only shrugged. "'e's working tonight, but I dunno what 'e does with 'is free time."

"Right. Thanks, Charlie. I'll call you for a drink sometime."

"As long as you pay, Captain!"

Jack pushed the Doctor and Matt back through the tavern, Charles' booming laughter following them. They got back into the considerably cleaner air of the outdoors, free from the smell of ale and sweat.

"Was that it?" asked Matt, frowning. "You only talked to one person."

"We're about to talk to another. If we can find him, that is." Jack stuck his hands in his pockets and looked upwards. "Danny Pink. He was a good soldier, back in India. Didn't think he'd come home so soon." A wolfish grin overtook the Captain's face. "Not that I mind. Quite a looker, him."

"Do you do that with everyone?" Matt asked, feigning offense, though his smile was teasing. "And here I thought I was special."

The Doctor looked at Matt strangely, but Jack only laughed and threw an arm around the tutor in the same manner as he'd done before.

"You are special, Mr. Oswald. I just use my charms to my advantage, that's all."

"So," the Doctor said, quite loudly, "Danny Pink. He can tell us more about the Silent Lady than Charles did, yes?"

"Seems that way," Jack replied, reluctantly removing his arm from Matt. "Danny was pretty sharp. Though he never struck me as the type to work at a place like that."

Matt sighed. "It's hard for soldiers to get work after coming home. My uncle was a soldier, and he had a hell of a time finding a job after Crimea."

"I doubt your uncle had to work in a brothel, though," said the Doctor, and Matt only shrugged. "Still, I think we should continue searching the area. We might find someone else who knows something."

"And maybe someone knows where Danny is," added Jack.

With the three of them agreed, they continued their investigation in the lower city.

* * *

><p>Danny hesitated in front of the blue door, marked with the number 10. His hand opened and closed into a fist, unsure if knocking was the best thing to do.<p>

He'd heard of a famous detective, a doctor of some kind, that lived in London and solved cases for free. For someone as lost and poor as Danny Pink was at that moment, he sounded like an angel come from heaven. Danny, although having promised Miss Oswin that he would find her brother for her, had no idea where to start. London was a big city, and there were probably a lot of Oswalds running about, not to mention Matts. So, this doctor-detective was his best chance of finding him.

But something about that blue door, with its polished wood and shiny gold numbering, brought out Danny's fight-or-flight response. It felt like once that door opened, something drastic would occur, and things would never be the same. He didn't know _why _he felt that way about the door, he just… did.

Maybe he should try and find Matt Oswald on his own, he thought. Perhaps the detective wasn't even home. Or busy, with a different matter. But then the image of Miss Oswin's face, her big pleading eyes and desperate frown, came to the ex-soldier's mind and he found himself filled with renewed determination. Before he could stop himself, his hand was on the knocker and the sound of metal on wood echoed through the mostly-empty street.

He waited for a few moments before the door was pulled open, a pretty young maid on the other side.

"Yes?" she tilted her head quizzically. "How may I help you?"

Danny steeled himself. "Hello… Is this where the Doctor lives? The detective?"

She nodded. "Yes, it is. Though I'm afraid he's out at the moment." The maid raised an eyebrow when Danny visibly deflated. "Did you need something from him?"

"I needed help," admitted Danny. "Do you know when he'll be back?"

"It may be a while. I can take a message, if you'd like?"

"Oh. Alright, well… I was looking for someone. A… friend of mine, she's trying to find her brother. I've heard the Doctor helps people out like that."

The maid smiled. She produced a notebook and a fountain pen from her apron pocket and began writing something down. "He does. This friend of yours, what's her name?"

"Oswin."

A pause as she scribbled in her notebook. "Strange name. And yours?"

"It's… Danny." He decided to leave out his surname. He really didn't need it to be mocked right now, however nice the maid appeared.

"Okay…" she finished writing down Danny's name. "And this person you're looking for? Do you know his name?"

"Matt Oswald," he said plainly. But the maid's expression went from calm to stunned.

"What did you say?" she murmured, eyes nearly popping out of their sockets.

"Er…" Danny shifted. "Matt Oswald? At least, that's what she said his name was…."

The maid's eyes dashed back to her notes. "You said your friend's name was Oswin?"

"Yeah?"

"Hold on!" She held up a finger and suddenly disappeared back into the house, leaving a bewildered Danny on the doorstep. He stared at the spot she once occupied, but he didn't have to wait long before she came back, slightly out of breath. A small photograph was clasped in her hands. She held it out to him.

"Is this your friend?" she asked.

Danny, with great trepidation, took the photograph and examined it. He nearly dropped it with shock. It was the spitting image of Miss Oswin, though her hair was done up in a hairstyle befitting a lady of a higher station than a prostitute, and her clothes spoke of more money than her current job actually provided. But on the back of the photo, the name "Clara Oswald" was written in a looping script.

"I… It looks just like her. B-But… She said her name was Oswin, not Clara." Still, as Danny said it, he realized that the name Clara suited her much better. It was… refined. Elegant, even. And her last name matched the one she gave for her brother. "Where did you get this?" he asked.

"From Matt Oswald," answered the maid. She watched his reaction carefully; the soldier almost gasped, his grip on the photograph tightening ever so slightly, as his jaw fell open.

"He was here?"

"Looking for his little sister. The Doctor is helping him as we speak."

Before Danny could further marvel at his luck, the maid spoke again.

"Maybe you should come inside, Danny. We can wait for the Doctor and Matt to return together."

The soldier nodded, and allowed her to lead him past the foreboding blue door. His apprehension aside, he felt relief at finally catching a break. Now all he had to was wait for the famed Matt Oswald to make his appearance.


End file.
